Never Again
by asdfjpoetic
Summary: Done in Response to a challenge on Eden Malfoy. Draco's first Death Eater's meeting. As Voldemort released him from the confines of the curse, and Draco raised himself up to his knees, he swore to himself, Never Again.


Never Again

How did it ever come to this?' Draco thought grimly as he kneeled before the Dark Lord, his head bowed in supplication.

'When did it become so bad that I had to give myself to this…creature?' he queried silently, self disgust etched onto his aristocratic features. He had never been weak, had never served…but now…now he was sinking so low as to take the mark of this madman. To have a reminder of his failure tattooed onto his skin. He would wear the mark forever…a constant reminder of what he lost…and what he had to gain.

He wondered if this would satisfy her. If she would finally accept him now that he had proof of what he felt for her. If she would finally believe that he was his father's son. Would she forgive him his mistakes? Or would she harbor the bitterness, just below the surface, and wait to strike when he was least expecting it.?

The Dark Lord's voice cut his musing off "Rise Draco, son of Lucius, and join your brothers." The voice hissed. Draco winced inwardly at Voldemort's words.

Yes, even now his fathers name was thrown at him; the expectations were being heaped upon him. Everything he did was mirroring his father's actions. It seemed as if he were incapable of straying of the beaten path. He had gone through Hogwarts, in the house that every Malfoy belonged to. He had joined the Slytherin Quiddittch team, played the exact same position as his father. He had become a prefect, just as his father had, just as his father had demanded. He had become head boy, something Lucius had never achieved, although it was something Lucius had expected of him. He had graduated, and pursued a career in the Ministry, something Lucius had insisted on. Disregarding Draco's dream to pursue a career in Quiddittch as foolish, and unpractical. And now…now he was taking the same mark as his father had. He suppressed the urge to rub the inside of his left wrist, where the newly acquired dark mark burned.

He was now a follower, no longer an independent thinker; he was part of a collective, a 'brotherhood'. Everything he did from now on would not be for himself, but for his master. He was no longer free. He was caged now in century old prejudices, out dated beliefs, and lies. 'I hope your happy mother.' He thought sarcastically. He certainly hoped she was, after all, he had done this all for her, and for the memory of his father. It was rather ironic that Lucius' death only strengthened the bonds of his servitude. If Lucius had been alive, he would not have the dark mark etched into his skin. It would not have been expected of him for another five or six years and the least. His father would have given him time to establish himself in the ministry, so that he could be of more use to Voldemort when the time came. The time was now. He was twenty three and a personal assistant to the minister. Give it ten more years and he would be The Minister of Magic. Voldemort was counting on it. Already plans were set in motion involving him. Although just inducted into the ranks of the Death Eaters, the men around him were whispering of him becoming a member of the inner circle. Draco shuddered at this. He had no wish to become any closer to Voldemort then absolutely necessary.

It was a fine line he would be walking. Performing well enough so that he was not punished, but not well enough to be seen as anything remarkable, so as not to catch Voldemort's interest. He would just be another face in the crowd, and hopefully, with time, they would forget that he was a Malfoy, and not expect him to be like his father. They would pass him of as a failure, and Draco was fine with that. He watched passively as the new initiates were inducted, his face stone as he watched them kill the muggleborns Voldemort presented them with. The test. The sticky, congealed blood on his hand was the only reminder that he himself had participated in the same act. He was told it was a first. The first time the Dark Lord had asked for muggle tortures as well as unforgivables, it appeared that the dark lord could appreciate the ingenuity of muggles, even though he preached against them. Draco did not feel lucky.

The death eaters were dismissed after the last of the recruits were initiated. Draco turned on his heel to leave. Voldemort's voice stopped him. "Draco" Voldemort sibilated "come here." Draco turned back towards Voldemort and approached without showing any of the disgust he felt for this thing in front of him.

He continued walking until he was no more then a yard away from the Dark Lord and then knelt, his head bowed, not flinching as other death eaters encircled him.

"Rise." Voldemort hissed

Draco stood gracefully, not acknowledging the members of the inner circle who surrounded him and Voldemort; instead he stared straight into the Dark Lord's ruby eyes. He would not show fear. He would serve, he would obey, but he would never fear this creature. He would never grovel.

"You are bold, quite unlike your father." Voldemort said slowly, studying the young man before him. Draco took this as a compliment, although he did not respond to the statement. The semi circle of Death Eaters around him shifted uncomfortably, and again Draco ignored him, his attention focused on this volatile monster in front of him. "Your father was one of the most loyal Death Eaters I have ever had. He was a genius at muggle torture. His position in the ministry and his money aided me through out my rise to power. I will expect the same amount of proficiency and aid from you."

Draco's plan to hide vanished in a puff of smoke, and finally what he was doing here seemed real. It no longer seemed like a nightmare, or a film. It was his life…a life that had just been cut in half; no death eater lived past forty. "Yes my lord." He said clearly, the horror he felt not showing on his face.

However, something must have shown in his grey eyes, for Voldemort stood abruptly "Do you not find this acceptable?" he queried softly, fingering his wand. Draco forced a half bow "No my lord, anything you order of me will be done." He said calmly. Voldemort took a step towards him and stared intently into his eyes "Do not ever lie to me boy" He hissed, and then "Crucio!"

It was the first time Draco had ever experienced an unforgivable. Thousands of needles were piercing his skin. His bones were on fire and it felt as if his heart would burst. He was dimly aware of someone screaming, pleading. Begging for it to stop. To stop the pain. To end it. He realized that it was him. It was his voice that was screaming his throat raw; it was his voice that was pleading, his voice that was begging. It was he who was groveling. This enraged the part of Draco's mind that was able to separate its self from the ripping, clawing pain, despite his resolve to never grovel, to never beg, to never plead, Voldemort had forced it from him.

As Voldemort released him from the confines of the curse, and Draco raised himself up to his knees, he swore to himself, Never Again.

He would never return to a Death Eater meeting unless it was for the purpose of destroying everyone here. No one made Draco Malfoy grovel. Not even Narcissa would be able to convince him to embrace this new life style. Never Again. Draco thought it was about time he had a nice little talk with Dumbledore. Because he would never serve this bastard. He would never follow, he would never beg, he would never plead, he would never grovel. Never Again

AN: Short little drabble on Malfoy, done in response to a challenge on Eden Malfoy. Please review and tell me what you thought. Feed back is greatly appreciated, by myself and the plot bunny.


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